


The Convergence of Twain

by Wynn



Series: Thesis and Antithesis [3]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Lives, Akechi Goro Redemption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Eventual Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29737470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynn/pseuds/Wynn
Summary: Goro dies on a cruise ship and then wakes in a prison cell. He would say it’s justice given all he’s done except for the fact that two little blonde girls stare at him through the cell bars.*“You should not be here,” Justine says, “yet you are. Either our master knows and wishes for it to remain secret from us, or he doesn’t know and some other force wields power over the Velvet Room.”“Which means,” Caroline adds as she smacks her baton on her hand, “keep quiet and don’t bother our master, or you’ll regret it.”For the first time since he woke up, Goro feels like he’s on solid ground. Threats he understands, both how to wield and how to withstand them. Propping a hand on his hip, he gives Caroline a careless, provocative shrug. “I’ve already got a lot of those. What’s one more?”Caroline narrows her eye, but Justine speaks first. “A deal then.”Goro spares her a glance. “There’s only one thing I want, and someone else has already promised to do it.”“So you wish to remain an inmate forever? You are content as a prisoner of fate?”*A tale of divided souls and their fusions, featuring Robin Hood & Loki, Justine & Caroline, and Akira & Goro.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Thesis and Antithesis [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861957
Comments: 18
Kudos: 98





	1. The Twins and the Trespasser

**Author's Note:**

> Another what-if fic, this one reimagining the end of P5 (it could fit in P5R as well). I'm really enamored by all of the divisions and dualities in the game, most notably Goro and Akira as the two Wild Cards, but also the division within Goro with Loki and Robin Hood. Throw in the twins and how they can be seen as reflections of Goro and Akira, and my brain couldn't resist. I mix bits from P5, P5R, and P5A as well as from one of the unused scenes for Goro that had been planned for P5R (seen on Faz's channel on YouTube).
> 
> The fic title comes from the Thomas Hardy poem of the same name. This fic doesn’t have anything to do with the Titanic though. I just like the phrase and thought it fit with the fic’s exploration of the division and duality in P5.

_This truly is an unjust game._

*

Goro dies on a cruise ship and then wakes in a prison cell. He would say that it’s justice given all that he’s done except for the fact that two little blonde girls stare at him through the cell bars.

Gingerly, he pushes himself up on the cot that he’s lying upon. He expects a sharp burst of pain from the movement. The last thing he remembers is his father’s cognition of himself shooting him in the chest, yet Goro only feels the usual ache that follows a fierce battle in the Metaverse, from his fight against Kurusu and the Phantom Thieves. Glancing down, Goro looks at his chest. There’s no blood to be found, no bullet hole either, but he’s still in his black mask suit, broken helmet and all, so he knows at least one thing.

He’s still in the Metaverse. But where?

Lifting his head, Goro peers across the cell at the two girls, who still stare at him. They’re nearly identical, both wearing the same prison guard uniform and the same ornate eye patch over one of their eyes, yet the one on the right carries a baton in her hands and has her hair in two buns while the one on the left holds a clipboard and wears her hair in a long braid. Both look utterly shocked by Goro, perhaps by his appearance or by his simple presence here, wherever here might be.

Is he still in his father’s palace? Goro thought that he’d explored every inch of that ship aside from the inner sanctum. Perhaps this is within that. Perhaps Goro passed out and his father’s cognition of him hauled him here and locked him in as punishment for his failure to kill Akira Kurusu.

But then why would the jailors be so shocked if they were a part of his father’s palace? If they’re still in his father’s palace, then they should know what Shido knows as they’re a part of him. If they don’t know, then perhaps Goro’s no longer on that damnable ship.

But then the question becomes, again, where exactly is he?

Easing his legs over the side of the cot, Goro stands. The girls don’t yell at him to sit back down, nor do they run away screaming at his movement, so he turns and makes his way to the bars. Up close, he can see the unearthly gold of their eyes, a shade exclusive to the Metaverse. But these girls don’t feel like garden variety shadows, the kind that congregate in Mementos and in palaces and become fodder for the slaughter. 

Has he stumbled into another palace, one ruled by a pair of creepy twin girls?

No answers seem forthcoming from them as they continue to gape at Goro in silence. If the stasis is to break, if Goro is to gain any useful information about where he is and how he got here, the first move then must be his. He regards the girls a moment, cycling through his strategic options. The bars prevent any of the more forceful ones, though even if Goro weren’t locked in this cell, he wouldn’t use those. Not against an enemy of unknown strength. He settles instead on a classic misdirect. Tilting his head to the side, he takes a moment to glance at his surroundings and then he says, “Hell as a prison makes sense. The child wardens, however, are a surprise.”

The statements provoke an immediate response. Bun Girl slams her baton against the bars and, as the clang from the impact echoes, she shouts, “Shut your mouth, trespasser. We’re not kids!”

“We _are_ wardens,” Braid Girl says, more calmly than her counterpart. “However, you are not in hell. You are in the Velvet Room.”

“But you aren’t supposed to be,” Bun Girl adds, retracting her baton from the bars so that she can smack it against her hand. “Who are you, trespasser?”

The question nearly makes Goro laugh. Who is he? He’s been so many things throughout his life, a bastard, an orphan, a detective, an assassin, a celebrity, and a disgrace. Again and again, Goro remade himself, warping himself to fit the current set of expectations, the current hurdles for him to surmount in order to be wanted and, if not that, at least needed. Did any truth remain? At least anything beyond his lies and his hate, his two constants in life, concealed from all for so long but exposed in the end by the Phantom Thieves.

Perhaps even, as strange as the notion sounds, understood by them.

Quietly, he says, “You can call me Crow.”

Braid Girl frowns at that and draws closer to the bars. Her gaze upon Goro sharpens, the gold of her eye blazing bright in the darkness.

At the movement, Bun Girl glances at her. Then she, too, frowns. “What is it, Justine?”

“The inmate. He has a bond with a boy called Crow.”

Bun Girl whips her head around to look at Goro once more. Her gaze is as sharp as Justine’s, yet there’s an undercurrent of shock to her stare that her counterpart lacks. “But he wore-”

“White,” Justine says.

“And he had-”

“A red mask.”

The implications of their knowledge unsettle Goro. He’d only ever worn that outfit with Kurusu and the Phantom Thieves, which means that these girls had seen him with the team. Yet Goro hadn’t seen them in return. He hadn’t even had the faintest inkling of being observed by anyone beyond Kurusu and his team. And he knows why. He knows where his focus had been then. 

On _who_ it had been then and for the proceeding four months. 

Pushing away the thought, Goro summons a blithe smile. “Oh, you mean like this?” He waves a hand and feels the grit of the black mask fade for the silk of the prince. The red mask remains in place only a moment before it falls from his face. Glancing down, Goro finds it split in two at his feet. 

The sight unsettles him, but Goro pushes this away, too, the sight and its implications. He looks at the girls again and finds them staring at him once more in shock. And he can’t help it. A small part of Goro preens at the attention, though he knows how pathetic it makes him, soaking up the slightest crumb of regard from two Metaverse brats. 

No wonder Kurusu had been able to fool Goro. His gaze had been heady, piercing and steady and cool, and Goro had been equally as wanting of it as he had been wary.

“Justine?”

The doubt in Bun Girl’s voice pulls Goro out of his reflection. From the corners of his eyes, he sees Justine shake her head. “I don’t know, Caroline. This shouldn’t be possible.”

Goro peers down at his costume. Bright and shining, virtuous and true, none of which applied to him. Mouth going flat, he says, “Don’t worry. It’s just charade.” He waves his hand again and the white gives way to the more appropriate blue and black. His cracked helmet replaces his broken mask at his feet, the sole red lens staring up at him as though in recrimination.

His change in appearance doesn’t soothe the girls though. They look from him to each other, and even with half of their faces concealed by their eye patches, Goro can see their unease.

“Do you think…?” Caroline asks. “Is he…?”

“He may be,” Justine says. “He is here, after all.”

They turn as one to regard him, to utter, their tone musing and apprehensive and mystifying all at once, “Wild Card.”

Goro frowns at the phrase. Wild card. In certain contexts, it describes someone or something as being unpredictable. In others, it refers to sporting competitions and the ability for a team to gain entry outside of traditional wins and losses. And yet still in others, in the most common perhaps, a wild card is one card in a standard playing deck, a card otherwise known as the Joker.

Heart beating fast, Goro reviews all the scraps of information he’s managed to gather so far. This place in the Metaverse, this prison known as the Velvet Room. These inhuman wardens and their connection to an inmate, one who has a bond with a boy called Crow. And the Wild Card, uttered after Goro changed his appearance, an unremarkable ability he had thought, but one that not even Kurusu and all his vast capability seemed able to accomplish.

Perhaps this place had nothing to do with his father. Perhaps Goro is here because of Kurusu. Perhaps this is what happened to all the hearts that Kurusu changed. Perhaps those souls were locked away in this cognitive prison, preventing them from ever being able to cause harm again.

The suppositions sit uneasy in his mind. The one with a bond with a boy called Crow is also an inmate, and inmate implies imprisonment. Yet Kurusu has the freest heart that Goro knows.

Before Goro can think of another tactic to use to get more information, the girls look away from him and stare at each other a long moment. Then Caroline says, “We should tell our master.”

“You presume he doesn’t already know.”

Caroline stomps her foot at that. “Then why didn’t he tell us?”

“Why indeed.”

Justine tilts her head so that she can stare down at her clipboard. Caroline looks at it, too. So does Goro. He spies a sheet of paper on the clipboard and writing on the paper, yet he can’t read it, the language incomprehensible to him, likely inhuman.

Another moment passes and then Caroline and Justine lift their heads from the clipboard to stare at him once again. 

“You should not be here,” Justine begins, “yet you are. Either our master knows and wishes for it to remain secret from us, or he doesn’t know and some other force wields power over the Velvet Room.”

“Which means,” Caroline adds as she smacks her baton against her hand, “keep quiet and _don’t_ bother our master, or you’ll regret it.”

For the first time since he woke up in this wretched place, Goro feels like he’s on solid ground. Threats he understands, both how to wield them and how to withstand them. Propping a hand on his hip, he gives Caroline a careless, provocative shrug. “I’ve already got a lot of those. What’s one more?”

Caroline narrows her eye at him, but Justine speaks first.

“A deal then.”

Goro spares her a glance. “There’s only one thing I want, and someone else has already promised to do it.”

“So you wish to remain an inmate forever? You are content as a prisoner of fate?”

Her gaze drops to take in his outfit. She peers at the stripes, not the archetypal black and white of an inmate, but blue and black, the same blue and black that Justine and Caroline wear. Goro goes still at the realization. Nothing happens by chance in the Metaverse. Everything is significant, is a reflection of the person and their soul. He’d never given much thought to the appearance of his outfit before, he’d liked the dark colors and the sharp edges to his helmet and gloves, but now Goro wonders about the colors and he wonders about the belts and the buckles and the straps that encircle him and what they may possibly mean.

A prisoner of fate. Perhaps he is. Despite his efforts, his life has always been dictated by others, by their actions, first by his father’s abandonment and then by his mother’s death. The world had rejected him for both, had cast him as _bastard_ and _orphan_ , and threw him to the depths, and only through his awakening had he been able to claw his way up. Up, but not out. Goro had had no illusions about that. The sword had always dangled above his head, and he had always lived on borrowed time. All that he’d hoped was to be able take his father down with him before he died.

Yet Goro is not dead, and he wasn’t able to take his father down either. He hadn’t even been able to deceive his father in the end. Shido had known him from the start, if not the exact truth of him, then at least his hatred, his ambition, his desperate need to prove himself. 

Goro hadn’t been the wolf in sheep’s clothing, waiting for his moment to strike. 

He’d been a tool, a toy for his father to torment and then discard when he finally grew bored.

Gritting his teeth, Goro looks at Justine. “No. I can’t say I’m content at all.”

“Then you will accept the deal?”

Before Goro can respond, Caroline whips her head around to glare at her counterpart. “Justine.”

“He is an inmate,” Justine says, unfazed by Caroline’s ire. “We are the wardens. This is what we are supposed to do.”

“Yes. With _our_ inmate. There’s only supposed to be one.”

“And yet there are two. Two inmates for two wardens.” Justine pauses then to glance down at her clipboard. “Perhaps that is what is supposed to be, and we simply did not know.”

The possibility does little to soothe Caroline. Her ire fades, but it fades to apprehension, to doubt, and she regards the clipboard like it may explode. After a moment, she wrenches her gaze away. It lands on Goro, on him staring at her and seeing her vulnerability. Her glare returns, fiercer than before, and Goro watches as she lifts her chin and squares her shoulders. Something about the gesture tugs at him, but before he can determine what it is, Caroline speaks. 

“Well, inmate? Do you accept our deal?”

Goro peers at her a moment then shifts his gaze to Justine. He eyes her as well, his brain mulling over the offer, over its possibilities. “That depends,” he says slowly. “You haven’t said what the conditions are.”

“You will remain silent until we return, and we will guide you in your rehabilitation.”

The word nearly makes Goro flinch. He manages to restrain it, but he can’t restrain the memory that wells within him, the sight of his mother dull and listless in the facility. Goro can’t stop his hands from clenching by his sides, can’t stop the way his chest grows tight or his heart races. 

And it’s not their fault. Goro knows that it’s not. Neither Justine nor Caroline know him, so they wouldn’t know his mother either, they wouldn’t know how she suffered, how she sought help so that she could help her son, yet how she still, in the end, died. They wouldn’t know to avoid this word if they wanted to convince him to comply. Goro knows this, so he takes a moment to breathe in and takes another moment to exhale, to will the rage from his blood and bones. 

He only half succeeds, only tempers his fury rather than banishing it entirely, but half is better than none. Half allows him to arch his brow in disdain at the offer rather than to drive his sword through the bars. “Guide me? How? You don’t know who I am or how I got here. You don’t even know if your master knows that I’m here or if he is even in control of this place. You need information to guide someone, and you don’t seem to have much of it.”

Caroline slams her baton against the bars. “You watch your tongue, inmate.”

“Or what?” Goro asks. “You’ll rip it out of my head? Those kinds of threats might work for your _other_ inmate, but I’ve endured far worse in my life than whatever you two can dish out.”

This earns him a sharp, savage smile. “You want to bet?”

He does. Goro feels the echo of that smile on his own face, he feels the call to howl and rampage and brawl, even now, still, after his loss to Kurusu and the Phantom Thieves, but Justine with her cooler head prevails once again.

“We will tell you what it means to be a Wild Card. That we know, yet you do not.”

He doesn’t. Goro suspects. He suspects a connection to Akira Kurusu, to their similar powers in the Metaverse, but he doesn’t know. Yet he wants to. Goro wants to know the truth of Kurusu, and he has since he first locked eyes with Kurusu across a television studio, since he saw him whip through a dozen different personas in his final battle against Okumura. Before, he had had to suppress that desire, had had to cast it aside for his vengeance. Yet that path ended in failure, in his miserable death at the hands of his father’s miserable cognition of himself.

Nothing stands in his way now.

Perhaps if Goro can know Kurusu, he can know more about himself, too, about his Metaverse abilities, about why, perhaps, he’d been chosen for such an ignominious fate.

“I accept your deal.”

At the words, Goro feels _something_ , a weight, a binding, a potential, a promise. He’s felt it once before, but only once, beneath the blazing lights of the television set as Akira Kurusu accepted his outstretched hand. Goro stares at Justine now, at her gaze, gold rather than gray, but as quiet and as steady and as piercing as that other, the one that so intrigued him, so mystified him, right to the end.

“Until next time, inmate.”

*


	2. The Hero and the Villain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It is curious,” Justine says, breaking Goro from his thoughts, “how you bear your imprisonment. Your anger at your fate empowers you and you wield it as a weapon against the world, yet for all that you rage against the injustice of your existence, you also resign yourself to its chains.”
> 
> The words chill him, dousing his burgeoning rage. Goro glances at Justine. She stares at him, the gold of her eye gleaming bright, piercing the darkness and piercing Goro, too, seeing beyond his boast and bluster to the truth within.
> 
> “Such a belief,” she murmurs, “has torn you apart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'd planned two scenes for this chapter, but when the first reached 3,000 words, I decided to divide the chapter. Hopefully, this means less time between chapters. At the very least, it'll be an increased chapter count. I've gone ahead and upped it to 10. I know where I want to go and have the scenes planned, but how long those scenes end up being is up in the air until I write them.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who read the first chapter and left a kudos! Thank you as well to those who were kind enough to leave a comment! I really appreciate it!

_I am thou, thou art I._

*

Only Justine returns next time, the next day if Goro has managed to keep accurate track of time in a timeless place like the Metaverse. He’d remained quiet as he’d promised, but he hadn’t been inactive, instead spending the first couple hours after Caroline and Justine’s departure examining and testing every inch of his cell. 

The sink at the back dripped cold water, but no more than that came forth when Goro tested the faucet. It was a commitment to aesthetics then, to the desolate vibe of his hopeless confinement, rather than actual functional plumbing. The cell door seemed similarly useless, lacking an actual door that could open and close. Instead, iron bars extended intact from floor to ceiling. If Goro had to escape, he’d have to use Loki to plow through iron or stone or else secure his release from Caroline or Justine. 

After his examination, he’d sat on the cot and reviewed every bit of information he’d managed to gather from his conversation with the girls. He’d reached no new conclusions, he’d only grown more certain in his supposition that this, this place and the girls, had nothing to do with his father but instead with Goro himself, with his abilities, and with Kurusu. 

Kurusu the Wild Card. Kurusu the inmate. The last idea seems as preposterous to Goro now as it had the day before. Perhaps it won’t after his conversation with Justine. Perhaps the free heart that Kurusu has is nothing more than charade, his version of the pleasant smile Goro perpetually directed toward the world.

Perhaps, but Goro doubts as he watches Justine come to a stop before his cell.

“All alone today?” he asks.

Justine nods. “Caroline is on duty in case the inmate comes.” She pauses then and peers at Goro from beneath the brim of her hat. “The _other_ inmate,” she amends.

Goro stands and makes his way to the bars. He wants to ask if it’s Kurusu, if his suppositions are true, yet he doesn’t want to show his scanty hand either, not after his dig at Caroline and Justine’s ignorance the day before. So he nods as he reaches the bars and he says instead, “I’ve upheld my end of the deal.”

“You have. And I have come to uphold mine. Shall I begin?”

At the question, Goro draws in a slow breath. His heart races and his mind whirls. Three years of not knowing the truth of his abilities, of what they mean and why he received them, whether he had been chosen by some higher power or if it had simply been accident or chance that resulted in his awakening. Three years of wondering, of theorizing, of fighting shadows in Mementos for the barest scraps of information, of prostrating himself before Masayoshi Shido and his sadistic ambition for access to his stolen knowledge of the Metaverse.

Three years and now, finally, Goro would know.

Goro squares his shoulders and lifts his chin. He exhales slowly, steadily. And then he nods.

“A Wild Card,” Justine says, “is one with the ability to wield multiple personas. They are a Trickster, possessed of the power to stop the oncoming ruin.”

“Ruin?”

“Yes. The ruin of humanity, its descent into perversion and oblivion. It is what you and the other inmate rebelled against, and it is what you can avert if you are successful in your rehabilitation.”

This time, Goro is prepared for the word. He doesn’t flinch and he doesn’t think of that place or how it failed his mother. He sidesteps the memory altogether, focusing instead on the rest of the information provided by Justine. Her claim about the ruin of humanity is easy to believe. Goro’s well experienced with the rot of the world, and it _had_ contributed to his awakening. It must have for Kurusu and the rest of the Phantom Thieves, too. In contrast to him, though, they had used their power to change people’s hearts, to bring an end to that ruin one soul at a time.

Including his.

Gritting his teeth, Goro says to Justine, “And that’s what you do? Help inmates avert the ruin?”

“Yes. That is the purpose of the Velvet Room, to guide inmates on their path to rehabilitation.”

The word trips him up this time, Goro too tense from his recollection of Kurusu to neatly evade. He swallows down his discomfort and crosses his arms over his chest, bracing himself for both hearing the word again as well as for saying it himself. “And what exactly does that entail, this rehabilitation of yours?”

“We guide inmates toward overcoming that which imprisons them.”

Goro’s gaze sharpens at the response. “That? Not who?”

“Yes.”

Goro waits for an elaboration, for a correction to what surely must be a mistake, yet Justine stays silent, content with the clarity of her response. Perhaps she should be. Perhaps this was simply a misunderstanding between them. Perhaps the human concept of personhood did not apply to metaphysical beings in the cognitive realm. Perhaps it truly was a _that_ which imprisoned Goro here rather than a _who_ , an _it_ rather than a _he_ or _she_ or _they_. Yet as Goro continues to peer at Justine, he can’t help but feel she means otherwise. He lets another moment pass before he says, careful to keep his tone level, lest he offend her, “I don’t know about your _other_ inmate or how he arrived here, but I didn’t walk into this cell of my own volition.”

“Didn’t you?”

The question confirms his suspicion, her insinuation that Goro is to blame for his current state of affairs and not anyone else, not his father and not Kurusu. Yet before Goro can question Justine further, she continues on.

“Yet it is strange. Only those who have forged a contract may enter here. But here you are.” She pauses then and tilts her head to the side, taking him in, peering at him from tip to toe. Whatever she searches for, she must not find, for, after a few seconds, she says, “How did you come to be here, inmate?”

Goro shrugs at the question. “I don’t know. The last thing that I remember is being shot by my father’s cognition of me. Or not being shot,” he amends, recalling the lack of any bullet wounds when he woke here. “Being shot at. I was shot at and then I woke up here in this prison you call the Velvet Room.”

“The Velvet Room is not a prison. The Velvet Room reflects the true state of the inmate’s heart. _Both_ inmates,” she adds as she glances again at Goro’s outfit.

The implication nettles, the very hint at any similarity between him and Kurusu beyond the two of them being Wild Cards. Whatever obstacles had hindered Kurusu in his life, he’d surmounted them with ease while Goro had floundered and failed. Yet it seems that Kurusu had help along the way, not just from his insufferable team, but from Justine and Caroline too. Goro had no help. He had no help and no one. For years, he’d fought alone, stumbling through the Metaverse, in the dark about that place and his powers, just striving to survive.

Goro clenches his hands at the thought. As he does, the tips of his gloves dig into his arms, yet he welcomes the pain, the sharp bite of it cutting through the haze of his anger. How many times had he nearly died that first year, only to have to patch himself up and throw himself back into the fray so that his father wouldn’t discard him as he had so many others. But Goro had done it. He’d fought on his own and he’d grown stronger, so strong that he’d nearly-

“It is curious,” Justine says, breaking Goro from his thoughts, “how you bear your imprisonment. Your anger at your fate empowers you and you wield it as a weapon against the world, yet for all that you rage against the injustice of your existence, you also resign yourself to its chains.”

The words chill him, dousing his burgeoning rage. Goro glances at Justine. She stares at him, the gold of her eye gleaming bright, piercing the darkness and piercing Goro, too, seeing beyond his boast and bluster to the truth within.

“Such a belief,” she murmurs, “has torn you apart.”

Goro wants to turn away, though he knows to do so would be to show weakness, to leave himself vulnerable to further attack. He wants relief from that unsettling gaze, yet it pins him fast, seizing him by the throat and refusing to let go.

“Two selves,” Justine says, relentless in her examination, in her deconstruction of his self. “The hero and the villain. And for them, two personas.”

At that, Goro wrenches his gaze away. His chest burns. He forces in a shaky breath. It catches in his throat and chokes, but Goro swallows it down and sucks in another. To his dismay, he needs two more before he feels steady enough to say, “Did Kurusu tell you about that?” 

“You did when you accepted our deal. You granted us access to the knowledge that we need to guide you in your rehabilitation.”

“So that I can save the world?” Goro shakes his head at that. “That hasn’t exactly been my goal the last couple of years.”

“And you question why inmates need guidance. You were not meant to fight alone.” 

The Phantom Thieves had said the same thing before the end, how Goro had had everything but the one thing that he needed to best them, how that was them, friends and teammates. The claim burns as much now as it did then, propelling Goro forward to clutch at the bars.

“But I _was_ alone! For years, I was on my own! I didn’t have this. I didn’t have _anyone_.”

Justine remains as calm before Goro’s anger as she had before Caroline’s the day before. “You have a bond with the inmate. You extended your hand to him and you accepted his in return. You fought alongside him. At least,” she says, “for a time.”

This truth, like the prior one about his rage and resignation, cools Goro’s anger. He watches as Justine tilts her head to the side again, as she regards him with a quiet, steady stare that reminds him of Kurusu. His clever mind had sifted through Goro’s lies to discern the truth. Now it seems that Justine does the same. 

“You were with him in the palace of envy, yet you were not through this last, though its difficulty far exceeded the prior.” Justine goes quiet a long moment and then her eye widens and she says softly, “You were the one who tried to kill him.”

Goro’s hands tighten around the bars, but he doesn’t look away from Justine. He can’t. He made his choice, more than once, he tried again and again to kill Akira Kurusu. Denying it now will do nothing. It happened. It happened, despite how intriguing he found Kurusu, how, in another life, they could have been friends. In this life, they were not. In this life, Goro envied Kurusu as much as he admired him, but he hated his father most of all. Whatever potential existed with Kurusu, a quiet game of chess in the warmth of Leblanc, unexpected revelations in a public bath, the thrill of battle and of victory in the Metaverse, Goro had traded all these for his vengeance.

“You are torn in this, too,” Justine says, “yearning for a bond with the boy you sought to kill.”

Killing Kurusu is a truth Goro can endure, but caring about him forces Goro to avert his eyes. 

Justine allows the evasion, perhaps out of kindness or perhaps to let Goro stew in the muck of his mind. The silence stretches between them for nearly a minute and then she says, “I must go. The inmate approaches.”

This brings Goro’s gaze back around. “Kurusu’s here?”

Justine is staring down the hall, in the same direction that she and Caroline had disappeared the day before. “Yes.”

Goro tries to peer down the hall, too. He can’t see much, just the same wet stone that comprises his cell. But somewhere further down, somewhere in this jail that is not a jail, is Kurusu. At the thought, Goro can’t help but recall their last exchange. The last words they had shared had been a promise, a promise for Kurusu to exact Goro’s revenge as well as a promise for him to hold onto Goro’s glove. It was a promise for a future duel, but more than that, it was a promise for a _future_. Goro wants to say that it was a pleasant lie, a simple kindness said for a doomed man, but that is not Kurusu. False pleasantries were Goro’s forte. Kurusu spoke truth the rare times that he did. 

So he meant those promises he said to Goro.

And now he was here.

Breathless, Goro stares down the hall. “Does he… Does he know that I’m here?”

“It is doubtful. He has not surpassed the confines of his cell either.”

The revelation careens through his mind, ricocheting off different emotions, different reactions. Satisfaction that Kurusu has not surpassed him in this. Disappointment that Kurusu has not come here for him. Rage at wanting Kurusu to be here for him. Confusion at Kurusu’s ability to come and go at all, though Justine claims that he’s still confined to his cell.

If that were the case, that Kurusu is confined _while_ here but not confined _to_ here, then that means Goro should be able to leave this place as well. 

He just needs to figure out how. 

Goro turns back toward Justine. “Why is Kurusu here?”

“He is preparing to fight a most powerful shadow.”

Goro freezes at the admission. He looks down the hall again, staring as though he could discern the truth from the darkness, then he gives in and says to Justine, “Which shadow?”

“The one who rules the ship of pride.”

Despite anticipating the response, Goro still reacts to it. He inhales sharply and his hands tighten around the bars. From the corners of his eyes, he can see Justine turn to look at him, but all of his attention is directed down the hall, at that distant point where Kurusu prepares to fight Shido. It hasn’t happened yet, so if Goro could get free, he could still do it. He could still get his revenge. He could. He’d worked for it for so long, dreaming of it during long nights at the orphanage and the few wretched foster homes he’d been thrust into before the world gave up on him. But then he found his power and found his path, and he pursued it, climbing higher, proving himself with each person he drove mad, with each enemy that he killed, drawing ever closer to Shido, until-

Until nothing. Until Kurusu bested him and his father did, too. Until he lay bloody and broken in the bowels of his father’s ship, at the mercy of his cognitive counterpart.

Until he died.

The thought makes Goro grit his teeth. It makes him duck his head. He stares down at the floor, at his broken helmet, still where it lay when it had fallen from his face the day before. He wants to kick it. He wants to crush it. He wants to hurl it against the wall and rip it to shreds. What use was it? What use was _any_ of it, his power or his plans, if this was his end? 

“And you wonder why you are locked in this cell.”

Goro whips his head up. Justine looks at him with something in her eye, perhaps disappointment, perhaps pity.

“The one thing you want. It is this, is it not? The rehabilitation of this shadow. And you have promised this task to the inmate. I can feel his resolve. His will in this is absolute. But yours…” 

“Is what?” Goro snaps. “Mine is what? Subpar? Inferior?”

“Irresolute. So much so that you have left your fate in the hands of another.”

“I had no choice! Your precious inmate would have _died_ if I hadn’t done what I did!”

“So you had a choice,” Justine says, as calm as ever, “and this is the one you made. You chose to remain a prisoner of fate.”

“Then let me out of here!” Goro yanks at the bars, and when that doesn’t work, he rears back and kicks at them. The impact echoes down the hall, loud and discordant, but Justine doesn’t flinch at the sound. She merely sighs and steps back from his cell.

“Again, you choose to place your fate in the hands of another. There will be no hope for you so long as this remains your choice.”

“No hope? No _hope_?” Goro can’t help but laugh at that. The sound of it echoes down the hall, as loud and discordant as his assault upon the bars. “There’s already no hope! I failed at everything! There was one thing that I wanted, and it was taken from me by-”

“Lies. All you wanted you cast aside, as you do for all you want. Recognition of this is your first step.” Justine glances at his clothing then, at the buckles and straps that encircle his arms, at his navy and black prison stripes. “No one can release you from chains you place upon yourself.”

With that, she turns and walks away. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will forever be enamored by the thematic significance of Goro's black mask outfit.


	3. Robin Hood and Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the thought, Goro closes his eyes.
> 
> He only has a moment to wallow before a clang sounds in the cell, Caroline slamming her baton against the bars. “On your feet, inmate.”
> 
> Goro doesn’t bother to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playing Persona 5 Strikers has put the Persona bug back in my brain in a big way. It's been quite a while since I've written quite so quickly. However, I also had a few days off with which to do so, and now my time off is coming to an end. Future chapters won't come quite as quickly now, though I've planned out the next and am about 1/3 of the way through writing it.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left a kudos so far and especially to those who have commented on the first few parts.

_So my final enemy is a puppet version of myself._

*

Justine and Caroline leave Goro for longer this time, so long he loses track of time. He guesses at least five days, but perhaps closer to a week. At first, he thought the absence was to punish him, to make him reflect upon himself and his actions, to take that first step as Justine had said.

So Goro had.

She claimed this was his choice, to be imprisoned in the Velvet Room. The Metaverse didn’t deal with the literal though, so if Justine is to be believed, while Goro may not have willingly walked into his cell, he did the equivalent of it with the choices he made. Perhaps not even all of them. Perhaps simply the last choice, Goro shooting the controls to the bulkhead and slamming it down between him and Kurusu. With that, he had imprisoned himself in the bowels of his father’s ship and consigned himself to death.

He thought he was finally doing the right thing then, sacrificing himself for Kurusu. Goro had at last accepted his dismal fate, the hand that had been dealt to him his whole life, rather than the hand that had been extended to him by Kurusu in his final moments. That he couldn’t do. There was no future there, no matter what Kurusu promised, no matter how much the notion dazzled Goro. That didn’t happen to people like Goro. He knew his path, he knew his fate, the world had made sure of it, his father especially. All Goro could do was take as much of the wretched world down as he could before he finally fell.

Yet here he was, still alive.

Had that been what he wanted on some level, to live, to transcend his fate? Was that why he was still alive? If Justine was to be believed, the answer would be yes, that Goro’s fate is in his own hands and that he has the power to either accept or abolish it.

Yet his efforts to open the cell earlier were all for naught. Goro had tried. He’d wrenched at the bars, kicked at them, tried to summon his sword, his gun, then Loki and Robin Hood, yet none of them came to his aid as no one ever had.

No one except Kurusu.

That thought had led Goro to his second theory concerning his solitude. Perhaps something had happened to Kurusu and that was why Justine and Caroline didn’t come. The fight against Shido had to have happened by now. Had it ended badly?

Had Shido killed Akira Kurusu?

The possibility enraged Goro, but why it did mystified him. Was it because Kurusu had failed to fulfill his promise, to get vengeance for Goro? Was it because his father had killed Kurusu and had thus succeeded where Goro failed? Or was it because Kurusu had died at all, that he had let himself be killed? Or was it all of them, all three possibilities, for Goro failing and Shido killing and Kurusu dying, dying while Goro was still alive.

He’d screamed himself hoarse then, calling for Justine and Caroline, for their elusive master, for someone to tell him what had happened. There wasn’t any reason for him to stay silent anymore, the deal had only extended through Goro learning about Wild Cards. He had. He wouldn’t just sit in silence any longer.

Yet no one came, not even when Goro hurled his helmet at the wall, not even when he kicked the sink off the wall or threw himself at the bars, desperate to escape.

Goro turns over on the cot and faces the wall. How long ago had that been? Perhaps three days or two or four. Not that it mattered. Nothing did, certainly not any power that Goro possessed. He hadn’t succeeded in anything, not in tricking his father, certainly not in bringing him down, and not in triumphing over Kurusu either, who had known what Goro had been plotting and who had outmaneuvered Goro, only to fall to Shido, dooming them both.

At the thought, Goro closes his eyes.

He only has a moment to wallow before a clang sounds in the cell, Caroline slamming her baton against the bars. “On your feet, inmate.”

Goro doesn’t bother to move.

A few seconds of silence pass, Caroline likely waiting for Goro to respond. When he doesn’t, she speaks again. “You’re wearing _that_ now? Pretty pathetic, trespasser.”

Maybe it was, but Goro hadn’t felt it or much of anything when his school uniform appeared two days ago. Or perhaps it had been three. He’d been lying on the cot and staring at the ceiling and it had suddenly appeared, replacing his black mask attire. Changing it back had seemed useless, especially as neither Loki nor Robin Hood could answer his call in this cell. So he hadn’t.

Another couple seconds pass and then Caroline starts to tap her baton against the bars, again and again and again and again. The sounds echo and re-echo in the cell. Goro grits his teeth against it, against the blatant attempt to get a rise out of him. He won’t respond. He refuses. He refuses to give her the satisfaction, to interact with anyone anymore with this wretched place.

Yet rather than take the hint, Caroline speaks again. “So you’ve given up?” she asks, the sneer clear in her voice. “You’re going to accept your imprisonment? It’s no wonder the inmate beat you.”

At that, Goro opens his eyes.

“He did it,” Caroline adds. “In case you’re interested. The inmate did what you were too chicken to do yourself.”

Whatever relief Goro might feel at Kurusu being alive, at him getting revenge against Shido, is wiped out by the last, as is whatever determination he has to remain silent. It’s one thing for him to think such thoughts in the confines of his own mind. It’s another to have them spouted at him aloud by a smug little brat.

Sitting up, Goro turns towards Caroline. “For someone so quick to critique my inaction, you were perfectly happy to leave me here to rot. Too scared what your precious master would do if he knew you acted of your own accord for once.”

In contrast to the placid Justine, Caroline is a stormy sea, so Goro can see the waves he’s made with his words. He can see the nerve he’s struck. And perhaps it’s pathetic, how he drinks in her reaction, how he exults in being the one who caused it, but he’s lost too much this last week, his ambition, his freedom, his life, and his power, to even try to refrain.

Standing from the bed, Goro makes his way over to the bars. “I’m curious,” he says as he stops before them. “It was Justine who realized who I was, who offered me the deal and upheld it.” He pauses then to arch a brow, to stare down Caroline, who glares up at him. “What exactly is your purpose again? Besides waving around your little baton, that is.”

Caroline narrows her eye, but she doesn’t respond.

As the silence persists, Goro sends her a sharp smile. “Not going to respond? How pathe-”

“Shut up! I help Justine-”

“You _help_. How interesting. So you don’t actually _do_ anything. Not on your own.” Goro looks at his hand and inspects his nails. He summons his best prissy prince voice for the next, one that never failed to elicit an enraged response in its recipient. “It seems that things would go a lot smoother around here if there was just one warden.”

“No. Things would go a lot smoother around here if there was just one inmate!” Grip tightening on her baton, Caroline lifts her chin to glare at Goro. “What exactly have _you _done, trespasser? Besides ruin everything.” Caroline pauses to shake her head at him. “You have the power of the Wild Card, and _this_ is what you use it for? Absolutely pathetic.”__

__Goro lowers his hand. “About as pathetic as taunting a prisoner who can’t fight back. Is this what you consider guidance? At least Justine told me something useful. All you’ve done is pout and stamp your feet.” Now Goro pauses to shake his head at her. “No wonder your master kept you out of the loop concerning me. You clearly aren’t capable enough to be trusted to do your job.”_ _

__Her reaction is less a lit match set to kindling and more gasoline poured onto an already roaring flame. Eyes going wide, Caroline jerks back from the bars only to swoop forward a second later, her teeth bared in a snarl. “I’ll show you capable!”_ _

__The prison wavers around Goro and the bars fade and then he’s standing in a large circular room. There’s nothing in the room save for him and Caroline, yet it’s made from the same dark stone as his cell and lit by the same dismal lighting. So they’re in the Velvet Room, just a different part of it._ _

__The realization adds more fuel to the fire. Looking at Caroline, Goro says, “So you _could_ get me out of there any time you wanted.”_ _

__“Yeah. To kick your ass.” Caroline slips into a battle stance then, her muscles loose but ready for a fight. “It’s time you learned, trespasser. Prepare for your rehabilitation.”_ _

__Goro can’t help but smile at that, a fierce one that wells from the depths of his soul. The thought of a battle, of crushing a foe and unleashing all that he feels, all that swirls and storms and rages inside of him, is heady. Goro extends his left hand and concentrates, calling for his weapon and his black mask garb, but nothing comes._ _

__He tries again._ _

__And again._ _

__Yet nothing changes._ _

__Goro stares down at his empty hand. He has enough time to feel a faint inkling of horror before movement across the battlefield catches his eye. Looking up, he sees Caroline lunge forward and summon a persona, a slime that Goro has seen in the depths of Mementos. With it, she unleashes a physical attack. The power of the blow shocks Goro. He staggers from the impact and nearly falls, bereft as he is of any defensive equipment, but he manages to hold his ground._ _

__As he straightens, Caroline shoots him a savage smile. “Show me what you got, trespasser.”_ _

__Goro matches her smile. “Gladly. I’ll show you-”_ _

__He breaks off before finishing, the memory blindsiding him, Kurusu across from him rather than Caroline, gaping as Goro called for Loki, as he showed Kurusu who he truly was._ _

__The Black Mask. The killer. The villain._ _

__“You’ll show me?” Caroline sneers. “You haven’t shown me much of anything so far.”_ _

__The comment wrenches Goro from the memory, from the past, and back to the present. Gritting his teeth, he dismisses the notion of a simple strike from his weapon. For a being as powerful as Caroline, that blow would barely register. He’d need to match her, persona for persona, if he had a hope of triumphing._ _

__Clenching his hands, Goro calls out, “To me, Loki!”_ _

__Yet as with his sword, nothing happens._ _

__Panicked, Goro tries again. “Loki! _Loki!_ ”_ _

__Still nothing. In the absence, Goro stands frozen, lost since the first time he touched that strange app on his ill-gotten cell phone and wandered into Mementos to awake to Loki. That strange new world had immediately intoxicated Goro, as had the power that Loki provided him. For years, he hadn’t had any, no power and no path out of the depths he’d been left to wallow in. But someone had put that app on his phone, had let him gain access to the Metaverse, to find Loki and find the way forward._ _

__But now that was gone._ _

__Caroline looks at Goro and shakes her head. “You’re even more pathetic than I thought you were. You’ve totally lost yourself now.”_ _

__Goro swallows down his unease. He licks his lips and draws in a shaky breath. “You think that’s all that I am? Robin Hood.”_ _

__The call is weak even to Goro’s ears. It’s no surprise then that nothing happens. The surprise was that anything ever happened at all, that Goro could summon Robin Hood in the first place. That mask had always been an ill-fitting one, a relic from a lost dream, too innocent and bright to last long in the cruel world. Yet his presence had still soothed Goro, it still let him know that, for all the darkness he surrounded himself with, for how far he had fallen, it was still in the pursuit of his justice._ _

__But now that was gone._ _

__Trembling, unable to stop himself, Goro looks across the battlefield at Caroline. “What have you done to me?”_ _

__Caroline props a hand on her hip. “Still blaming other people for your life? When are you going to get it, inmate? Your choices led you here. No one else is responsible for this but you.”_ _

__“Then what is the point of you?” Goro snaps. “Of this entire place? You claim it’s for guidance. That’s responsibility! That’s helping someone to make their choices! But I had no one! I awoke to my power _years_ ago! Where were you? Why weren’t you there?”_ _

__Caroline’s hand falls from her hip. She stares at Goro, and for the first time since he saw her last, since she and Justine wondered at his presence here, a sliver of doubt returns to her expression. “I- I don’t know. We didn’t know-”_ _

__“And neither did I!” Goro howls. “I didn’t know about this place! I didn’t know about changing hearts! Do you think I would have ended up like this if I’d known? If I had another choice, I would have-”_ _

__Goro breaks off again as another memory seizes him. He looks down at his empty hand again, at the cuffs of his jacket and his shirt. This is what he’d worn when he walked into the interrogation room to kill Akira Kurusu. He hadn’t been the Black Mask, hadn’t held his sword in his hand or been accompanied by Loki or Robin Hood. He’d been on his own. Just Goro, in what he thought had been the real world. And he had walked into that room and lifted his gun, and he had killed Akira Kurusu, despite-_ _

__“All I want I cast aside.”_ _

__Goro shakes his head and laughs as Justine’s words come back to him. The sound of it is soft and shaky and dismayed. He’d cast aside Kurusu for Shido, for his long-held vengeance, only to cast that aside for Kurusu, to ensure that he would survive._ _

__And in his indecision, Goro had achieved neither. He’d achieved nothing._ _

__No wonder Loki and Robin Hood refused his call._ _

__Goro would too, pathetic wretch that he is._ _

__From the corners of his eyes, Goro sees Caroline take a step forward, but then the room begins to fade. He looks up to the bars of his cell snapping back into place, to Caroline staring not at him, but to her left, at the man now standing beside her. He’s even more inhuman than Caroline, with too pale skin and a too long nose. He wears a black suit and a pair of white gloves on his too thin hands, and he’s regarding Goro with the same disdain that Shido always directed his way._ _

__As Goro narrows his eyes, Caroline snaps to attention beside the man. “Master! I was just- I was teaching him to know his place!”_ _

__The man ignores her in favor of continuing to stare at Goro. Goro stares in return, taking in the elusive master of the Velvet Room. If the Velvet Room aided Wild Cards, and if Goro was a Wild Card, then had this man been the one to give Goro his power? Perhaps that explained his disdain. Look at what Goro had done with it. He’d driven people mad. He’d blackmailed and murdered them. He’d brought more ruin to the world than averted it._ _

__And then he’d died._ _

__The man regards Goro for a few more seconds and then he says as he turns from the bars, “Bring him. It is time.”_ _

__*_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Goro’s falsely divided self has been thoroughly deconstructed, let us watch as he begins to build himself back up again. Because, in the next chapter, at long last, is Akira Kurusu.

**Author's Note:**

> Please drop me a comment if you enjoyed. Feel free to [follow me on Tumblr](http://astreetcarnamedwynn.tumblr.com) if you're so inclined.


End file.
